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simplegenius042 · 1 year ago

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Late WIP Wednesday & Last Line (Paragraph)

Tagged by: @cassietrn @josephseedismyfather @inafieldofdaisies @direwombat @socially-awkward-skeleton @adelaidedrubman @g0dspeeed

Tagging: @strangefable @jillvalentinesday @wrathfulrook @chazz-anova @deputy-morgan-malone @derelictheretic @ec-10 @minilev @josephslittledeputy @neverthesameneveranother @onehornedbeast @shallow-gravy @voidika @vampireninjabunnies-blog @strafethesesinners @ladyoriza @ladyofedens-blog @little-wolf-seed and @nightbloodbix

Here's 3 WIPs and a Last Line Paragraph (from The UnTitledverse, Far Cry The Silver Chronicles and Life, Despair & Monsters) to make up for the lack of activity (I've been a little preoccupied but I'm all good now). NOTE: I'm still ironing out these scenes, so some changes might happen in the future of publication. Anyway, enjoy!

Here's a WIP for A Blast In The Past (not Jurassic World related), a fic that's story was heavily inspired by Bendy And The Ink Machine and writing style inspired by Tamsyn Muir's Harrow The Ninth. Come meet the second main protagonist of The Perfect Storm saga... and the narrator who torments him:

You opened the wooden door to Carmine Studios, the hinges creaking from age and the times you've passed through it, revealing the hall that would seal your fate, on a false hope you would see your old friend and boss, Terrance, once again… but all you had entered was an empty caricature of the real thing. A nightmarish mockery that you'd soon find would come to life. But you didn't know that, not yet. You were more focused on the nostalgia behind your work, weren’t you? Or what once was your work.

In the hallway hung old posters of cartoons that no one cared to remember anymore. You admire it without recognizing the deception. Do you want to know the real kicker here?

It’s all a part of the show… all half-lies and half-truths, but close enough to what you already recognize that you couldn’t tell the difference until it was too late.

Was Seeker the clumsy meerkat who would follow through on any dangerous stunt, regardless of how far it puts his safety in jeopardy, all for what he loved most… a banana waffle split with streams of caramel syrup trailing up and down? No, it was more selfless than that. Nauseously so. Wasn’t it his loyalty to his friends?

Heh. Friendship… what good did that do him in the end, Bowler Hat?

You shift to the next poster, the one you’re least familiar with. Who was she again? An intelligent wisp named after her actress, Emily Margarita? Or perhaps you remember her as something more impersonal… perhaps a cunning foe? Doesn’t matter to you now. All you know is that she was a co-worker who you described as a “nice dame with a great voice, like a canary”.

But you never would have understood why most of the blokes back then howled and whistled for her, even if you knew the truth. “She was no scag,” you’d say, but you’re smart enough to know that being hitched with her would be… unpleasant. Shame you never listened to your gut.

Then there was the star of the show! The only prick you knew craved for nothing but the spotlight. Endlessly seeking validation for his actions. Only satisfied once his legacy was recognized. A pitiful shapeshifter that took many forms but loved only one… “Mario Emmett! The demon that never could be!"

A lanky black creature with an ego that was bigger than he deserved. Was he the main protagonist of your little show? Who are you to know? You’re only here to follow a repetitive script, endless by design.

You seem confused pal, scruffy face scrunched up, wrinkles becoming more apparent as your tired eyes examining the poster a bit too close... Perhaps a little reminder of why you’re here will help out with that gap in your memory. Wouldn't you agree, pal?

You search through the pockets of your plain brown overcoat, and feel the thin paper edge of a letter. The one Terrence had sent you, remember?

Carefully, you tug it out. Not that the yellow paper didn't already look worse for wear.

Despite its lack of care, surprisingly not your doing for once, you were reasonable enough to fold it neatly like a professional old-timely gentleman. No, it was… Terrence, yes, Terrence who had scrunched it with little care. “Always had a knack for getting on my nerves,” you would bitterly think. Funnily enough, that’s the part of him that was done right. What an Abercrombie!

…Is that the right slang?

You unfold the letter up, again, for what would be, unbeknownst to you, the first of many times. You read the ink scribbled over the dirty gold paper once more.

More interaction between Jennifer and Sir Enigma Malvolio. Seduction... could be better Jennifer. Granted, Malvolio's not... normal. The extent of how "unnormal" he is though is yet to be recognized:

"You shouldn't be here."

Jennifer swiftly turned around, her back to the Apex's chamber pod, its mesmerizing fluid motion forgotten as she focused on the approaching short figure of Malvolio. She noticed just how quiet his steps were, and how he neglected to bring his cane down to the container's metal floor.

"Don't you know it's rude to snoop around in stranger's properties?" he asked, his voice echoing in the trailer, despite how restrained it is from the usual bombastic and joyous attitude he put up in front of Dicko. From what she could tell, he sounded more amused than angered that she came into his workshop uninvited.

His gaze was still as dead and false as it had been like in their first meeting.

Remembering why she was there, Jennifer shifted her stature, "I'm sorry. I just couldn't help myself after tonight's fight."

Seeing that Malvolio stopped approaching, tilting his head as he waited for her to continue. Thinking she had his attention, she looked around, blue eyes wide in wonder as she gestured the workshop, "This place is amazing."

Looking to Malvolio, who she still had the engaged attention of, she gestured to him and stated coyly, "You were amazing."

To what would have to be the eighth confusing she's ever received from this man, Malvolio snorted and tsked at her. With a shake of his head, he looked to her, a smile curved on his lips as he made his reply.

"Please, I barely did a thing. She's the one who deserves the credit. It was all her," he pointed his cane behind Jennifer, to the darkened pod, where the Apex resided in the waters, "I was merely the motivation she needed to win the fight."

Looking between Malvolio and the beastie, Jennifer selectively stammered as she said, "But you did create it. And shared its mind. Don't you agree that's more than enough reason for praise?"

For whatever reason, Malvolio scoffed, looking Jennifer up and down, scrutinizing her with his gaze as he impressively twirled his cane to rest on his shoulder, now looking more like a club than a walking stick. He unnerved and frustrated her. Jennifer needed him to lower his guard, to be completely oblivious to any danger she posed.

It just ticked her off that he was clearly unconvinced with her performance, and at ease while she had to keep her nerve together, especially for Dicko's sake.

Here's a FC5 WIP for The True Sinners of Silva on a (forced) picnic with Faith and Nadi, for a "girl's day out" as Faith had insisted to Jacob (though Nadi hadn't initially been invited). Have some lore, ship teasing and the aftereffects of Silva's terrible childhood. Also TW for kidnapping, cults, manipulation and discussion of eating disorders:

Faith let out a sigh as she clung on to Silva's arm, effectively anchoring the woman where she sat. And she wasn't sure what was more concerning; the fact she didn't mind Faith being so close to her, or the familiar content smile on the herald's face.

"I'm glad the two of us can finally hang out," Faith admitted, neglecting to include Nadi's presence, "Jacob had been hogging you for so long that I was afraid I wouldn't ever get to see you again."

Silva wasn't sure how to respond to Faith's small confession so chose to reply with a contemplative hum, ignoring the warmth she felt rushing in her face. She also ignored the gnawing hunger at the sight of the food as well.

Nadi must have noticed that she wasn't eating the food as both herself and Faith had been. She looked at Silva with concerned brown eyes.

Silva was unsure why the blonde would care though; she just wasn't that hungry. Not even for the barely nipped sandwich in her hand.

"...Something wrong with the chicken, enfer?" Nadi asked, her head tilted as she scanned Silva over with her gaze. Silva glowered at the woman, rather irked that John's right-hand would bring attention to her lack of appetite, especially while the present host was a herald.

"It's nothing," she told the Frenchwoman, lowering the chicken sandwich. Nadi was unconvinced, though, and looked to Faith, head jerking to Silva.

And unfortunately, Faith lifted her head from Silva's shoulder, adjusting herself to sit up straight as she shifted her attention from Nadi to her charge. Silva risked a glance next to her and had the misfortune of getting caught into the worried gaze of Faith's green eyes.

"Do you not like the food?" Faith asked, eyes wide in panic like she committed some unspeakable crime, putting a hand on her forehead as she continued, "I should have asked you what you wanted. I'm sorry, I was so excited for this picnic with you that I didn't think you'd have any problem with the food-"

Silva saw the growing distress on the herald and swiftly responded to put a stop to it. She didn't want to find out what the repercussions were from upsetting the brother's little sister.

"No, no, it's not the food," Silva stated, garnering Faith's attention as she listened, focus as intense as the floral scent that followed the herald. Once again unprepared for the sole attention of Faith, she hurriedly tried to clear up any confusion, "The food is good. It's just me. I'm not hungry."

Even though she said she wasn't hungry, Silva could feel the pained craving for the food, but her mind just couldn't handle the idea of consuming anything for the time being.

Faith's demeanor lost the panic instantly, and the calm that came across her face left Silva stunned at the whiplash.

"Huh," Faith said, looking over to Nadi, the blonde unbothered by the herald's rapid shift in emotions, who had a knowing look as she stared at Silva with sincere pity.

"Are you sure, enfer?" Nadi questioned, a brow raised, "Jacob said you don't eat a lot at the center. The last time you ate must have been, what... three, four hours ago? Can you really say you're not hungry?"

Silva refused to answer, looking away from Nadi as the conflict of hunger and lack of appetite raged inside.

Both woman present found Silva's silence to be confirmation, and Nadi asked, "You're not starving yourself to spite us, are you?"

Silva gave Nadi an incredulous look, straightening up, "What would be the point of that? Despite how unpleasant I find your cult, it wouldn't help me to weaken myself. And besides, like you said, I do eat at the center. Which would be counterproductive if my plan was to starve myself, no matter how stupid of a plan it is to begin with."

Nadi nodded along, not incorrectly correcting her on their group status, agreeing with most of Silva's words, "I believe you. So, what's up?"

Silva had half a mind to not outright curse the sharpshooter about the obvious reason being how she was kidnapped from her home and kept captive against her will surrounded by cultists. The terror and stress of not knowing what they're capable of. Nadi would never know the terror of being unable to predict a so-called prophet's next move.

Especially when he was your own father.

Silva snapped out of her musings when Faith's hand rested on her arm. Glancing to her, the herald gave a comforting squeeze, a small encouraging smile on her face. The action made Silva's face feel no less warmer.

So instead, she glanced between Faith's waiting green eyes and Nadi's sincere stare, and exhaled a sigh, as she softly revealed, "I... just can't."

Nadi nodded slowly, "But you want to."

Silva gave a nod at Nadi's correct guess. She looked down to the sandwich in her hands. She wanted to have it, and the basket of fruits with the baked goods. She desired it badly, but she couldn't let go of the dread that came with eating and swallowing.

"But you don't because you're afraid of what could happen if you do. Like choking? Or perhaps vomiting?"

Silva didn't need to say anything to confirm that what Nadi deduced was true.

Nadi hummed, and stated, "It seems you got yourself an eating disorder, enfer. An avoidant one from what you've described."

Silva eyed John's confidant. The name sounded familiar, something Kamski would have offhandedly mentioned. Curiosity did eat away at her, as she replied, "You seem to be familiar with this disorder."

Nadi smiled, though the smile didn't reach her brown eyes. She looked down to the apple she had been biting on, "That's because I suffer from the same thing. Unlike you though, where you don't eat enough, I eat too much. I've gotten better though. John, la chérie, helped set up a diet and routine for me. Got me to memorize timing as well. He and Alexander still check up on me from time-to-time, but it's greatly appreciated."

Silva was surprised; both by Nadi's confession and the fact John of all people went out of his way to help Nadi. Silva thought him incapable of such a thing, given his holier-than-thou attitude towards her.

And finally the last paragraph for the still unnamed arranged marriage FC5 scenario. And Alexander (AKA Jacob's most trusted and loyal right hand man) is pissed. TW for cult views, a war crime and mentioned coerced/arranged/forced marriages. Also mentioned drug (Bliss) use. Snippet below:

Letting out a deep, shaky sigh, Alexander stared straight into Jacob's cold blue eyes, and said, "So you must understand my... my confusion and my shock and my fury when the Sinner herself, stumbling around the halls, high on fucking Bliss, wept in my arms as she told me exactly everything you and Joseph and John and Faith neglected to share with me or Nadi or the rest of the congregation. You told me she agreed to our negotiations. No, not our negotiations, you told me she agreed to your family's negotiations as soon as it was put forward. You told me this marriage between a suitor of her choosing, no matter how nonsensical and impractical and detrimental the wedding itself is to morale and our resources, was to bring unity between Eden's Gate and the Resistance indefinitely. So tell me Jacob. Why the lies? Why the lack of care towards the rules that Joseph says keep us grounded? Rules that I have witnessed so many of our brothers and sisters be punished for breaking, and yet now you and your siblings are exempt from it? Why have you been sending out Hunters, armed to the teeth, to track down Palmer's Militia if we're in a truce? Why do I hear of no contact with the Resistance if we're supposed to be sharing compensations and details surrounding our peace? Why had Silva told me that Joseph already chosen her suitor, and ignored her refusal of it?! And most importantly, why did she say it was YOU?!"

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